


Lost a friend

by PaisleyWraith



Category: South Park
Genre: I never know how to tag Kenny's deaths, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22578922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaisleyWraith/pseuds/PaisleyWraith
Summary: Caught in the crossfire of a shot from Fate, Kyle thinks there might be something really wrong. Stan insists he's just mourning...after all, Kenny died last year and of course Kyle hasn't felt the same since. Understandably, it's a byproduct of the trauma. But there's something that's tugging at him, almost exactly a year later, and he just can't seem to brush it off.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 15
Kudos: 44





	1. An innocent incident

Kyle stood elbow-to-elbow with Stan, hands in his jacket pockets, the latter busy trying to hold a wriggling puppy in his arms. 

“Is he out of his mind?” Kyle asked, squinting against the sun. 

“Might be,” The other offered with a grin. “It’s freezing out here.” 

“I thought we were going to lunch.” 

“I told him we were both coming back in town this weekend,” Stan held the little bulldog upside down, giving it a new look at the world, “He might not have realized it was today.” 

“Yeah, well I texted him,” He hadn’t even changed out of his travel clothes yet. “You didn’t see him last night?” 

“Dude I was asleep in seconds,” Stan struggled. “Do you want to hold him?” 

“Nope,” The redhead started walking, hands still in the pockets of a black wool jacket. 

Stan tread along beside him, holding his puppy close. 

“I am not letting him down to walk around,” Stan answered the raised eyebrow look with finality, “He might cut his paws on something!” 

“You should have left him home,” Kyle snorted as the beast drooled all over a buckled coat. “Watch the fence. I’m afraid _I’m_ going to cut myself on something.” 

The two scaled it with the spryness of youth, handing Stan’s new best friend off in order to safely allow the dog passage before walking over broken glass buried deep in the ground and walking around broken down cars. 

The McCormick residence had broken down, been repaired, broken and fixed again so many times it looked like a patchwork quilt of a shack. But no addicts stalked the property and a neat little circle was cleared around it, filled, with what Kyle assumed, with the little flower bushes Karen had mentioned she planted. 

The two stood, looking up, as another boy tossed twisted metal and various debris from last nights storm onto the ground. 

He was just in a tshirt and jeans. No coat, the dumbass, just a lean and wiry blond completely oblivious to two of his old friends standing feet away. Kyle watched, biting the inside of his lip, hard. 

“Hey!” Stan called up once Kenny was still a moment, grinning broadly. “You going to say hi or what?”

The blond whipped his gaze over, hands on his hips, lighting up immediately. 

“Oh my god!” Kenny laughed, walking over to the side of the roof. He crouched, smile damn near splitting his face. “I thought you two wouldn’t be in until late tonight!” 

“I was in late last night,” Stan said at the same time that Kyle explained “I just arrived.” 

Kenny gestured for them to back away, waiting until the two obediently stepped back. 

He easily swung himself over the roof, dropping to the ground, rushing forward to try to hug them both at the same time. 

And with that, the coolness of anxiety washed away to something warmer. Kenny didn’t seem nervous at all despite the half year that passed him by, only being slightly uneasy when the dog started growling at his proximity. 

“How are you?” Kyle burst, unable to stop smiling like an idiot. “I haven’t spoken to you in forever.” 

“I know!” Kenny pushed sweaty bangs off his forehead, smiling back just as bright, “Stan, your hair is _blue_.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be that blue,” The boy had already gotten laughed at by Kyle, hurrying to shut that down quick. “I wanted blue streaks.” 

“Yeah,” Kenny surveyed, “You sure got ‘em.” 

“Navy,” Kyle leaned towards the blond confidentially, “More than black.” 

Stan sent him a scathing look, adjusting the bulldog again, “Dude. Don’t make me the butt of your joke just so you can sidle up-” 

“Shhhhhhzzzttttt…” The sound Kyle uttered made Stan smirk. “That’s _enough_.” 

“We can make fun of Kyle, next,” Kenny offered to his brunet friend, “He’s still uptight as always.” 

“Oh yeah,” Stan agreed, “He didn’t loosen up any, even being away from home.” 

Ahh, his face was already hot and he knew he no longer looked like the poised, mature adult he’d wanted to portray. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to dye my hair blue,” Kyle flushed. 

“Now, now,” Kenny threw an arm over his shoulders, freezing him in place. “Honestly, I’m so proud Stanny-Boy went from being Emo to Punk Rock. Hell yeah, man. Digging the piercings, too.” 

“Yeah,” Stan’s tongue traced his lip ring, “My dad thinks it looks awful.” 

“Eh, dads,” Kenny shrugged with his arm still over Kyle’s shoulders. “Tell me about the hellhound.” 

“I called it a hellhound too,” Kyle said, vindicated, even if Kenny had sounded endearing. 

“Heimdall,” The puppy didn’t quite look deserving of the regal name, though the pale eyes at least made Kyle think there was some thought put into it. 

“Interesting. He was hot, I’ll give you that,” Kenny talked comfortably, leaning further on his friend, “He going to be our fourth pal today?” 

“Better than Cartman,” Kyle sniffed. 

“He still at community college?” Stan ignored the redhead’s vitriol. 

“Yup.” Kenny let his arm drop, chipper and bright, “No reason to stand here. Let’s get lunch.” 

“We didn’t mean to interrupt,” Kyle started and was quickly interrupted. 

“Nah, it’ll stay for me to do later,” Kenny walked backwards to face the two, “We can go get lunch. But yeah. Cartman’s out getting an education. Not far off like you two, though.”

“I needed to get away from my parents,” Stan said tiredly. 

“Same,” Kyle sighed, “Sometimes I don’t think it was far enough.” 

“Darlin’, I know your mom,” Kenny’s eyes twinkled. “Really well. She’d follow you if you went to university on the moon.” 

“Probably.” The redhead smiled. “She showed up for a surprise visit at my apartment and I wanted to die.” 

“Oof,” Kenny commented. 

“At least you don’t live in a dorm,” Stan pointed out, letting the puppy walk delightedly next to his master once they were out on the main street, “I doubt your neighbors cared.” 

“I live in a university neighborhood,” Kyle groaned, “I live with classmates. Frats have their own, nice houses at the end of my street.” 

“Sounds great for an uptight, repressed, snobbish kid just moved out,” Kenny teased. 

“I hate kids my age.” 

“Hey, same,” Stan whistled and his canine friend came back to walk right at his side. “I hate teenagers so much.” 

“You tellin’ me you two haven’t made any other friends?” The blond was walking between them, towering over them both, “Y’all need to be going to parties and meeting new people.” 

“Ew.” 

“Ugh.” 

Kenny laughed, slinging an arm over both boys. 

Kyle’s face hurt from smiling. He’d been anxious, coming back. There was something nerve wracking in adjusting to a new environment only to return to something familiar. 

He really did have a problem with anxiety. 

“Weird that it already looks different, here,” Stan commented, “They’re building a whole new neighborhood out west. I saw them bulldozing the lakeside.” 

“Oh yeah,” Kenny pointed off in the direction, “That whole area is going to be apartments, actually.” 

“Who the hell wants to live here so badly?” Kyle was flabbergasted, “What even is there here?” 

“All the rich people who want to live in Colorado, probably,” Stan grumbled. 

“What rich people are going to live in crappy apartments in South Park?” Kyle didn’t believe that, “There’s nothing around here.” 

“We’re within driving distance of a main city,” Kenny reminded him, “Don’t start hating on us now, College Boy.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Kyle had to quickly take the whine out of his voice. He was a full-grown man. “But why do they have to rip up the town to cram more people in?” 

The blond shrugged against him, Stan pursing his lips as he surveyed the distant machinery ruining whatever their town had for a skyline. 

The trio crossed the street, taking up the entire sidewalk unapologetically.

When he had his own home, outside of town, how much was going to change? Would he even recognize this place when he came home for religious holiday or to visit his family? It was like it never changed when he was younger, like they waited until he was older to become unrecognizable. 

“Kenny, where are we going?” Stan asked suddenly, gently pulling the puppy from following a passerby who glared at the boys as they passed. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kenny admitted, “I was following Kyle.” 

“Following me?” He asked, broken from his thoughts, “I wasn’t leading anywhere.” 

“I’m hungry, where the fuck are we going?” Stan was trying not to laugh. “Who’s going where?” 

“My workplace is nearby,” Kenny offered, “Little café place. Hasn’t been run out of town by Tweak’s yet.” 

“You want to go to your workplace on your day off?” Kyle fussed. 

“Eh, it’s chill,” Kenny rested an arm on his shoulder like a chair rest, “They’re really cool there and it’s good food.”

“I’m for it,” Stan itched his cheek, “I’m starving.” 

“I’ll let you guys use my discount, too,” Kenny said cheerfully, “Also-”

Everything suddenly became quiet. Kyle couldn’t hear a thing. His brain seemed to stutter, trying to understand what was happening, his vision was black and he was vaguely aware, sluggish and incoherent. 

He couldn’t move. He tried to turn, blink, breathe, he couldn’t take a breath. His vision fuzzed, the light hurting his head, the street coming into view slowly. 

He was pinned, searing heat at his side, against the wall he’d been walking against. He was half-standing, left side numb, head aching as a soft buzz came from afar. 

He didn’t understand, his mind was whirring, feebly trying to piece it all together. A hot liquid was dripping into his eyes, making him have to close them. 

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t take a breath. Couldn’t move his feet. 

Someone was manhandling him, shouting from father off, but he couldn’t make out the words. Was someone getting his mom? What was happening? Someone was talking to him, right next to him, and he couldn’t- someone was holding his hand, it was pinned against the wall, someone was talking, he couldn’t hear, what was happening, he couldn’t hear.

His consciousness was a patchy thing for a while. He was strapped down at one point, swaying with the motion of an ambulance. Whatever it was, it was bad enough for a hospital. 

His brain slowly turned that idea around, he stared blearily as an EMT tried to talk to him, asking his name, taking his vitals. He couldn’t move. People were rushing around, the pain was starting, so bad he passed out twice before he got into the building. 

Was anyone getting his family? Was he dying? Was he going to die? 

He stared at the exit sign of the hospital pass by overhead as he was taken inside, unresponsive to any questions.


	2. A dramatic dream

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.” 

“It’s fine,” Kyle smoothed the wrinkles out of the robe, tugging the sleeves before closing the closet door. “Seriously. It’s just a dumb, quick degree. Make my mom happy.” 

“And is she happy about it?” 

“Eh. Not really.” He kicked one of the boxes to the side, falling into his bed. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s done, and I can take a break now.” 

“Hell yeah,” Stan said, “You can come visit me out here.”

“That’d be fun.” Kyle admitted, stomach turning. “Feels like forever since we hung out last.” 

“For real!” His friend sighed. “You don’t have a job yet, right?” 

“Not yet.” Kyle picked at his own tshirt, squirming. “So I’ll definitely try. I still…I get fucking tired, still, it’s just not going away.” 

There was a slight pause. He sounded so dumb.

“It’s fine, dude,” Stan’s voice was genuine. “I get it. Just know that you’re welcome. Anytime.” 

“I know.” His chest ached. “Thanks, Stan.” 

“Of course,” His friend said warmly. Good old Stan. “I’ve got some work to do, but text me if you get bored.” 

“I got you,” The redhead exhaled, slowly, “I’ll get out there and see you soon. See you, man.” 

“Bye, Kyle.”

He dropped the phone, arms outstretched above his head. 

Their talks seemed to last less and less lately. That was totally his fault, he knew that, it was just hard. Hard to give a damn, first of all, hard to make the effort of continuing to make connections. 

And it wasn’t fair to ask Stan to continuously reach out if Kyle wasn’t going to make equal effort. He was very aware of this. 

The redhead shifted, staring up at his ceiling without actually seeing it. 

He ought to go shower, get the goddamn product out of his hair before lying on his pillow. Time to get up. Now. 

He remained still, alone in his wildly quiet dorm. 

Everyone was probably out partying still. He’d come back early, hoping to fall asleep before anyone tried to bother him. Leave this place without having to make stupid promises to keep in touch with people he never wanted to see again. 

It was done. He graduated, it was over. Until his mother insisted on a master’s degree anyhow. He got a break from studying, researching, writing papers and dealing with the assholes on campus. 

He was going back home. Back to South Park. 

Kyle rolled over, curling into himself. 

Maybe he should have asked Stan to facetime and just hang out on the other line until he calmed down. His fingers clawed into his own stomach, clammy and cold. 

Breathe in, breathe out, count to six each time. His therapist’s words were stale. 

He was sweating, shivering violently. He was starting to debate calling his parents and spending the night at their hotel. His mother would fuss like crazy but he wouldn’t be alone. He could crash on the couch and maybe not be alone with his own thoughts only. 

His thoughts felt distant but he tried to keep an inner dialogue going. Just a panic attack. It’ll be over, this was as bad as it was going to get. This was all. 

He was okay, keep breathing. Just a panic attack. It’ll be over soon. 

It’ll be over soon. Just try to relax your muscles and breathe. 

Kyle dragged in breath after breath. It was all over. He graduated. Didn’t have a job, so he was headed home. That was just how it was, no reason to get upset. No reason to be so fucking stupid. 

His therapist would get onto him for the negative self talk. Kyle wiped irritably at his eyes. He hated this. 

He rolled back over, feeling his chest slowly unwind. 

He should get up. Take a shower. Or call his mom. Call Stan. 

Shouldn’t it have gotten better in a year? People kept saying it would get better. He was still waiting to get better. 

Breathing was getting gradually easier. He gently scratched his arm, counting seconds that he could manage to breathe in and out. 

He pushed himself up to sit, making an effort for a larger breath. Okay. Time to move on, get on with his night. He graduated, had a mental breakdown before and panic attack after. Awesome. 10/10 great day. 

Kyle laughed to himself, hands tangling in greasy, salon-smelling curls. At least they were getting shorter and shorter. 

He needed to shower. Kyle lowered his hands, taking another good breath. Shower. Count to three, if it helps. Be moving by two. 

One. 

Kyle hauled himself to his feet, jaw set. No, don’t tense. Breathe, keep your thoughts calm and level. 

He slowly collected his clothes, draping them over an arm. Something warm and comfortable, then he could crawl under the blankets on his bed and sleep. 

Okay, plan for tomorrow. His crap was all packed and ready to load and haul back home. Not a ton, it wouldn’t take long to get everything set up. 

Kyle stepped into the shower, arms crossed as the water pelted him. 

The long drive back home. They’d probably stop somewhere to eat, and if his parents saw something they wanted to look at. He wished Stan had been able to attend, at least he’d have someone to talk to. Unless Ike wanted to grace him with his snark. 

But he hadn’t talked to him in a while before anyhow, so why would he bother? 

Negativity again. He rolled his eyes at himself, trying to wash the product from his hair. He’d invited him to come visit and Kyle had said no. That was his choice. 

It was just difficult, at times, to realize he’d drifted away from all of his friends at this point. Or, well. 

He wondered if Kenny would have come if he’d asked. 

Kyle leaned against the wall, inhaling through his teeth. 

If Kenny were still alive, he could easily have pictured him cheerfully hitching a ride with his family to watch him earn a stupid piece of paper. He’d have been a good person to talk to about his feelings on that. Kenny always had a better grip on reality than Kyle, honestly, he never got caught up in his own head and trapped there. 

It was weird to think of it so distantly. Kyle pressed his lips together tightly. 

It was hard to believe he was going home. He was looking forward to it, he was dreading it. He didn’t know what to think. 

He shut the water off, not bothering to carefully dry his hair as usual. Who cared what he looked like, he was going to be in a long car trip for most of the day. 

And he was tired. 

His body still felt shaky, fingers still numb. Focus, goddamn it. 

He kept his eyes on himself, in the mirror. He pulled his shirt on, his sweats, grimacing. He’d lost a lot of muscle mass, not being able to play sports. His hip was too fucked up for that, anymore. 

He wasn’t even in his mid twenties yet. 

He jerked his gaze away, still-damp curls plastered to his forehead. He more or less fell into bed without getting himself a glass of water first. He could hear people now, downstairs. He didn’t want to deal with the drunk kids celebrating and dragging their college sweethearts into their rooms. 

Kyle pulled his blankets over his head, blocking any view of his room. After tonight, he wouldn’t ever sleep in this room again. Which was okay with him. 

He placed his phone on his bed next to him. If his mother called or texted, he’d ask to come over. Otherwise he’d get some sleep here. 

The boy curled into himself, silent. His phone remained silent. 

-

He walked down the hallway, backpack slung over his shoulder. He shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the strange, almost psychedelic paintings on the walls. Odd choice for a university. 

The wall to his left was glass, but everything in himself was telling him not to look. Something akin to the fear when you wake from a nightmare facing the wall. Do Not Turn Around. 

The paintings got weirder the farther he walked, passing closed-off classrooms and the odd run of lockers. 

Weird. He didn’t recall seeing universities with lockers before. Interesting choice. 

That itchy, nerve-wracking feeling still creeping at the nape of his neck. Do Not Turn Around. 

Kyle traced the wall, brushing the very end of his fingertips against drywall, metal door, canvas. The paintings still felt wet and seemed to suddenly become mostly warm and hot colors-

He stopped. 

He couldn’t tell what color the wall was. 

Kyle squinted. 

He couldn’t- this wasn’t real. 

He looked back where he came, a hallway that became dark only three feet away. This wasn’t real. Ahead, a brightly-lit, fluorescent, wild-painting hall that stretched on forever. 

This wasn’t real. 

Kyle ignored the fear spiking his pulse and purposely whirled around, facing the glass head-on. 

Immediately, he wished he hadn’t. 

Kenny. 

Not an image, but what looked like a living, breathing boy leaning against the glass with his full body. He was staring directly at Kyle, chest heaving. 

Kyle was frozen, clutching his backpack. Kenny slowly licked his lips, looking as uncertain as the other boy felt currently. 

Fear wasn’t something he’d ever seen on Kenny’s face before. 

The other was looking over him, eyes flitting with anxiety, fingers pressed to his lips. He looked so alive, so vivid. The only thing in this place he could actually _see_. 

He was tapping, not that Kyle could hear it. Repeatedly, with earnest. 

Kyle shook his head, not understanding, afraid to blink and lose the boy entirely. 

Kenny met his eyes again and mimed on his own body, a single finger tracing from inner wrist, down to outer crook of elbow, up shoulder. 

Kyle touched his own arm, feeling the raised and twisted scar under his own fingers. He didn’t speak, swallowing down his words instead. 

He pulled up his sweatpants, instead, showing the beginning of another pinkish/white scar starting at his ankles. 

Kenny leaned against the wall again with both arms, resting his chin on them. He was staring still, frowning. It fascinated the redhead. 

He seemed so candid. One of Kyle’s greatest exasperations with Kenny had been the wall between his real emotions and what he projected; something that had gotten worse the older they aged. Or Kyle had only realized it as they aged. You know. Who knew. 

“I’m older now than you ever got to be,” Kyle realized out loud, staring back at the boy. A whole year older than Kenny would ever get to age, stuck perpetually in the year he was tragically killed.

The focus came back into blue eyes, the other boy frowning all the more. 

_what?_ His lips clearly said, though Kyle never heard a word. 

“Kenny,” Kyle said again, and the boy clearly recognized his name. 

He smiled, a strange weariness to the gesture, reaching up to mime a little heart against the glass. 

Kyle smiled as well, heart aching, repeating the gesture on his side of the wall. 

It was…a nice little thing, if his mind had conjured this up. A way to say goodbye. He missed the funeral, after all. He never felt like he had a good opportunity. 

Goodbye, he thought to himself, not even able to force the word out of his throat.

His phone buzzed, jerking him awake at 6:55 am, his mother asking if he’d slept alright. 

Kyle blinked tears away, something serene settled in his chest.


End file.
